This is home. It's not pretty, but it's what you've got. The city was probably one of those, what'd they call them, metropolises, that's right, back Before. That was then, though. That was before the world got all hosed up, cracked in its very psyche. The city might be dead, but it's still full of motherfuckers who keep on living and want to keep on living. Some of them probably will keep on living. And some of the are going to die before they want to, before their friends want them to, before their enemies want them to. Some people just want to eke out survival. Some, though. Some are more interesting. That's why you're here, of course, seeing if your story is gonna be an interesting one. Nobody lives forever, the Apocalypse proved that. But there are still some immortals, those whose stories are still told. That might be you. But we'll have to find out. Fill out the drat sheets, and we'll go from there.

In addition,
Tell me: What keeps you up at night?
Tell me: What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one?
Do not tell me: A lot about who you were. That doesn't matter now.

---

quote:

Get busy living, or get busy dying.

---

Post your sheets in this thread. A picture is highly recommended.

I will be taking 4-5 players.

The Battlebabe slot has been reserved, please do not submit a battlebabe unless it's been reserved for you.

In addition to Core, the Quarantine, the News, and the Waterbearer are considered playable.

Do your rolls on Orokos or some such.

Don't be creepy. If you're worried about something, PM me and we'll work it out like adults.

Be interesting.

Post at least once every couple of days, but the livelier the game the better it will be. I personally am unlikely to post much on the weekends.

It's not really one city any more. There are dozens of holdings, from Junktown to the Crater Monastery. Any man with ambition can make his own little nation of rundown streets and ramshackle buildings. I carved mine out of a wasteland they called the "South Side" before the fall. I believe in Order and in my part of the City we have it. Anyone who disagrees finds themselves branded - quite literally - and thrown out to the wolves beyond my gates.

Inside the Kriegsgrad, there is only one law: mine.

There is only one punishment: exile.

What keeps you up at night?

It does not escape my notice that I am exactly one throat-slash away from being deposed. I sleep under the guard of men whom I trust completely - and behind a well-locked door.

pre:

Name: Corin
Look: Man with a strong face, cool eyes, and a wiry body in luxe clothes.
Cool +1
Hard +2
Hot +1
Sharp +1
Weird -2
Leadership
when you have to order your gang to advance, regroup, hold position,
hold discipline, or put their drat backs into it, roll+hard. On a hit, they do it. On a 10+,
they snap to; take +1 forward. On a miss, they do it, but you’ll hear about it later.
Wealth
If your hold is secure and your rule unchallenged, at the beginning of the
session, roll+hard. On a 10+, you have surplus at hand and available for the needs of
the session. On a 7–9, you have surplus, but choose 1 want. On a miss, or if your hold
is compromised or your rule contested, your hold is in want. e precise values of your
surplus and want depend on your holding, as follows.
Holding
*your population is large, 200-300 souls. Surplus: +1barter, want: +disease.
*your compound is mostly tents, lean-tos and wooden walls. Your gang gets no armor bonus when fighting to defend it.
- for gigs, a mix of hunting, crude farming, and scavenging (surplus: 1-barter, want: hungry).
*for gigs, add a bustling, widely-known market commons. Surplus: +1barter, want: +strangers.
- a gang of about 40 violent bastards (2-harm gang medium 1-armor).
*your gang is well-disciplined. Drop unruly.
*your armory is sophisticated and extensive. Your gang gets +1harm.
*your garage is for poo poo. It has only 4 vehicles, and only 2 of them are suitable for battle.

They say the drugs were cleaner before the world fell, and easier to get too. Pay a man in jingle or sex and you'd get a few CCs of the good stuff to keep going a few days more. It's a bit harder now, but then again, there's no cops to catch you when you slit her throat while she's sleeping and take all the goods for yourself. Good riddance, this poo poo's loving poison anyway. Sweet, sweet poison.

What keeps you up at night? Sooner or later this poo poo's gonna bite me in the rear end. Dunno if it'll be someone pissed I stole his buddy's drugs or someone pissed I didn't stick around until morning, but sooner or later they're gonna come for me.What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one? Wherever there's a mattress and an escape route, that's where I'll be. Ain't got time to stick around.

pre:

Name: Red
Playbook: Battlebabe
Look: Woman with a strong face, angular body, and indifferent eyes in casual wear
Cool +3
Hard -2
Hot +1
Sharp +1
Weird +1
Gear:
Ballbuster: Scoped ornate rifle (3-harm far reload loud valuable)
Bootsy: Hidden bladed handle (2-harm infinite hand)
Six-or-Five: Custom-grip magnum (3-harm close loud)
Clothing (1-armor)
Ice Cold
When you go aggro on an NPC, roll+cool instead of roll+hard.
When you go aggro on another player’s character, roll+Hx instead of roll+hard.
Visions of Death
When you go into battle, roll+weird. On a 10+, name one person who’ll die and
one who’ll live. On a 7–9, name one person who’ll die OR one person who’ll live.
Don’t name a player’s character; name NPCs only. The MC will make your vision
come true, if it’s even remotely possible. On a miss, you foresee your own death,
and accordingly take -1 throughout the battle.
Hx:
Max +3
Mayor +3
SeaDee -1
Vault =0

The future sucks, but now that I'm here, it's going to suck a bit less.

Day 2:
Food's run out. Did Jackson take the rest?
Sweep of stasis found no records, but who knows what's locked in all these rooms.
Need to get a better idea of surroundings. Can't make good decisions blind.
Next entry when I return from outside.

What keeps you up at night? Thinking how we're gonna get things back to the way they were. Or at least getting people back on the right path. I mean, we've got a lot to build with, but everyone I've met is a paranoid nutcase. Just knocking enough heads together to get some basic cooperation going is going to be a feat itself.

What part of the city do you call your home? Can't imagine any place in the city safer than Stasis, so I'm still bunking there. There's no food though, so I've got to resupply pretty soon.

quote:

* When you emerged from stasis, the world’s psychic maelstrom rushed in on you.
Roll+hard. On a 10+, you were able to receive it without succumbing to it; you have weird-1.
On a 7–9, you were able to hold it off; you have weird-nil. You are unable to open your brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom; getting +1weird will give you weird=0. On a miss, it overcame you; you have weird+1, and in addition the MC must always highlight your weird.

MovesDisciplined engagement: when you inflict harm, you can choose to inflict any amount of harm you like, less than or up to your harm as established, including s-harm.
Decide at the moment you inflict the harm; you need not tell anyone in advance how much harm you intend to inflict.Leave no one behind: in battle, when you help someone who’s rolling, don’t roll+Hx.
You help them as though you’d hit the roll with a 10+.Eager to know: when you go to someone for advice, they must tell you honestly what they think the best course is.
If you pursue that course, take +1 to any rolls you make in the pursuit.
If you pursue that course but don’t accomplish your ends, you mark experience.

Remaining in stasis are the rest of your unit, plus:
your colleagues and your friends.

Stasis has remained untouched by outsiders because:It is securely hidden.
It has deadly defenses.

When you emerged from stasis, Specialist Jackson, Tammy M, emerged with you. What happened to her? You don’t know. You haven’t seen or heard from her.

Stasis Facilities
Medlab: Stasis includes a workspace with life support and medical technology.
Bring someone injured into it and you can work on them like a savvyhead on tech (cf ).

Past
You were there when the world ended, but you’ve been in stasis for 50 years and your memory is only slowly returning.
At the beginning of each session, roll+sharp.
On a hit, ask the MC one of the following questions and she’ll answer it.
On a 10+, you can ask a followup question, which can be from the list but needn’t.
On a miss, the MC will choose a question and you will answer it.
— Where was I when the world ended?
— Did we know whose fault it was?
— Who did it hit worst?
— Was it sudden or gradual?
— Could we have stopped it?
— Who were the first people to know?
— What was the first year like?
— How long did we hold out hope?
— What did we try that failed?
— What were the first signs that the world was ending?
— Who did I lose?
— Who seemed safe, but wasn’t?
— What’s the worst thing I saw?
— When it reached us, what did we already know?
— What let some people survive, when others couldn’t?

Capfalcon fucked around with this message at Jul 21, 2017 around 20:55

When I was a child I thought 'there must be more to life than just this'.

And then, there was.

It never leaves me, you know. You just have to learn to live with it.

What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one?
We have taken a green space and claimed it for our own, spread it as far as we can with seeds and hard work.

What keeps you up at night?
We are not a violent community. We trade what we grow and I tell powerful men what I see written behind my eyelids, but soon enough someone is going to realise that we can do everything we currently do just as well while enslaved. I am our leader. I must stop this. I don't know how.

pre:

Name: Hope
Playbook: The Hocus
Look: Woman with formal vestments, a dirty face, clear eyes, and a lanky body.
Cool +1
Hard -1
Hot +1
Sharp 0
Weird +2
Gear:
4-barter
Moves:
Fortunes
Frenzy
Divine Protection
Followers:
My cult, who travel with me if I need to travel.
They are hard-working and constitute a powerful psychic antenna.
But there are only a few of them (less than 10) and they depend entirely on me.
Fortune +1
Surplus: 1-barter, augury
Want: desertion, desperation

potatocubed fucked around with this message at Jul 21, 2017 around 17:28

I go where the jingle is. So if I show up at your door, it's one of 3 things:
Some shithead stole from you, and you want me to get it back.
You want a shithead dead.
You're someone else's shithead. Gonna be a bad day for you.

What keeps you up at night? You know that building over on 7th nobody goes near? The one that smells wrong. Yeah, Every now and then, no matter where I am,
when I'm trying to sleep, I smell it.What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one? Right now, I've got a sweet hideout set up on 27th and Madison. It even has a mattress.

They all say, this is my city. These are my streets. Every jumped up warlord and half-starved street rat. My block, my alley. Because I've got the guns. Because I know every corner, every crack in the pavement.

Bullshit. Those scavs scurry around one little slice and act like they know this place, like it's theirs. None of them have seen the real city. Not like the steeplejacks have. From the top of the highest scraper, into the darkest tunnels underneath. Come back with things people forgot they'd forgotten. And I'm the baddest steeplejack of them all.

You can keep your streets. I own the sky.

What keeps you up at night?: The fall. I know it's coming. Eventually, every steeplejack falls. And the best fall the furthest. The only question is whether its the fall that kills the body, or the one that kills the soul.

What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one?: For now I've got a cot at Yakov's Place. He used to be a steeplejack, until his soul fell and he couldn't climb anymore. It's a good place, for food and for work.

Movesgently caress this poo poo: name your escape route and roll+hard. On a 10+, sweet, you’re gone. On a 7–9, you can go or stay, but if you go it costs you: leave something behind, or take something with you, the MC will tell you what. On a miss, you’re caught vulnerable, half in and half out.Battlefield instincts: when you open your brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom, roll+hard instead of roll+weird, but only in battle.NOT TO BE hosed WITH: in battle, you count as a small gang, with harm and armor according to your gear.Prepared for the inevitable: you have a well-stocked and high-quality first aid kit. It counts as an angel kit (cf) with a capacity of 2-stock.

Special: If you and another character have sex, you take +1 forward. At your option, they take +1 forward too.

HxMax-2The Mayor+3Red+2SeaDee See-1

First Aid Kit
It begins play holding 2-stock.
To use it to stabilize and heal someone at 9:00 or past: roll+stock spent. On a hit, they stabilize and heal to 6:00, and choose 2 (on a 10+) or 1 (on a 7–9):
• They fight you and you have to narcostab them. How long will they be out?
• The pain and drugs make them babble the truth to you. Ask them what secret they spill.
• They respond very well to treatment. Recover 1 of the stock you spent, if you spent any.
• They’re at your complete mercy. What do you do to them?
• Their course of recovery teaches you something about your craft. Mark experience.
• They owe you for your time, attention, and supplies, and you’re going to hold them to it.
On a miss, they take 1-harm instead.

To use it to speed the recovery of someone at 3:00 or 6:00: don’t roll. They choose: you spend 1-stock and they spend 4 days (3:00) or 1 week (6:00) blissed out on chillstabs, immobile but happy, or else they do their time in agony like everyone else.

To use it to revive someone whose life has become untenable, spend 2-stock. ey come back, but you get to choose how they come back. Choose from the regular “when life is untenable” list, or else choose 1:
• They come back in your deep, deep debt.
• They come back with a prosthetic (you detail).
• You and they both come back with +1weird (max weird+3).

To use it to treat an NPC, spend 1-stock. They’re stable now and they’ll recover in time.

Comrade Gorbash fucked around with this message at Oct 12, 2017 around 20:25

Hey, heard you were looking for a driver? I'm the best there is ain't nobody know the 'ways and the Vues quite like me. I've been all over this city what's left of her. You got a cargo that needs movin i'll get er there on time and in one piece. See me and old Grinder here go way back

and there ain't no hogrider or tollman gonna get between me and where I need to go. At least not twice anyway. So what'll be hotshot you want me to get rolling or not?

What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one? My home is my cab, that way all I usually need is a safe spot to park up for the night, when Grinder needs a little TLC though I usually stop at Stella's Place out on the ring where the sixty six hits the city. She's a pretty fair mechanic and I don't know where she gets it from but she always has plenty of gas.

What keeps you up at night? Eventually poor old Grinder is gonna break something that i ain't gonna be able to fix. Where do I find a replacement then?

Combat driver: when you use your vehicle as a weapon, inflict +1harm. When you inflict v-harm, add +1 to your target’s roll. When you suffer v-harm, take -1 to your roll

Reputation: when you meet someone important (your call), roll+cool. On a hit, they’ve heard of you, and you say what they’ve heard; the MC has them respond accordingly. On a 10+, you take +1forward for dealing with them as well. On a miss, they’ve heard of you, but the MC decides what they’ve heard.

Special:If you and another character have sex, roll+cool. On a 10+, it’s cool, no big deal. On a 7–9, give them +1 to their Hx with you on their sheet, but give yourself -1 to your Hx with them on yours. On a miss, you gotta go: take -1 ongoing, until you prove that it’s not like they own you or nothing.

Hey, hold this for a second, would ya? Did ya, did ya know, that cities...ow...cities, man, used to be alive? They had personalities and souls and opinions and hopes and dreams and poo poo. Concrete organs and steel brains, asphalt veins and fiber-optic nerves, little human blood-cells flowing through the whole thing. The city was, like, the dominant life-form on the loving planet, man, and we existed in a symbiotic-loving-relationship with them.

Everybody thinks that's over, that's the time-before, the cities are dead and we're just carrion-eaters swarming the corpses. You probably think that too, don't you? Well you're wrong, man, you're wrong. This city isn't dead. It's in a coma, it's, it's, on, what did they used to call it, life support. One day it will wake up again - you'll see. Until then, I have a job to do.

Y'see, me, I'm the loving immune system. My city hurts. I heal.

I'll take that back now, thanks, it should fit right...here...got it.

What keeps you up at night?: Too much broken. Not enough tools. Not enough parts. Not enough time. For every one thing fixed, ten more broken. For every one thing that even can be fixed, a hundred more busted beyond repair. Lot of work to do. So much work. Too much work. Can't stop. Can't ever stop.

What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one?: Every living being needs a brain, or three, and I live in my city's brain. City Hall's not much to look at anymore, what with the collapsing into a pile of rubble and all, but the basement is still there, and the parking garage. If you head down there and follow the signs you'll find the brain, the control room with the panels and screens and blinky lights that used to be able to tell the immune system any time something was wrong anywhere in the city. A couple of them even still work.

MovesBonefeel: at the beginning of the session, roll+weird. On a 10+, hold 1+1. On a 7–9, hold 1. At any time, either you or the MC can spend your hold to have you already be there, with the proper tools and knowledge, with or without any clear explanation why. If your hold was 1+1, take +1forward now. On a miss, the MC holds 1, and can spend it to have you already be there, but somehow pinned, caught or trapped.Spooky intense: when you do something under fire, roll+weird instead of roll+cool. When you make a battle move that calls for you to roll+cool, you can roll+weird instead.

Special: If you and another character have sex, they automatically speak to you, as though they were a thing and you’d rolled a 10+, whether you have the move or not. The other player and the MC will answer your questions between them. Otherwise, that move never works on people, only things.

Mister Bates fucked around with this message at Jul 26, 2017 around 23:21

*Wheezy breathing*“Look. I’m totally fine if you want to refuse my services. But you will lose that arm to the rot, and I saw three of your people on the way in that had symptoms of the Black Kiss. And I know for a fact that No-Nose got her people vaxed last week. So what’ll it be?”

Tell me: What keeps you up at night?
The Tombs do not release their children lightly. Some day they will come for me.

Tell me: What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one?
When I get those few precious moments of peace, I enjoy spending them in the Statuary. Most likely some Before luxe-gently caress’s playground, but I enjoy the tranquil beauty. Plus the large open galleries make it difficult for people to sneak up on me.

Sixth Sense
When you open your brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom, roll+sharp
instead of +weird.

Infirmary
you get an infirmary, a workspace with life support, a drug lab and a crew of 2 (Shigusa & Mox, maybe). Get patients into it and you can work on them like a savvyhead on tech.-Converted RV is that’s cool?

Hx
Max: +2
Red: -1
Vault: +3
The Mayor: +1

PoultryGeist fucked around with this message at Sep 6, 2017 around 02:14

Corin: who do you know for a fact rightly doesn't fear you, and do they live within Kriegsgrad, or without?

Every day brings a new threat and I toss them into one of two buckets: sane and insane. The sane ones know that loving with Kriegsgrad means loving with everyone whose food and water passes through my market.

There's this crazy fucker, calls himself "The Prophet" or something ridiculous like that. Speaks every day on the sins of man, the error of our ways, some days he calls me out by name, poo poo like "trading one form of brutality for another." He seems to think that if we're all just loving nice to one another the world will be a paradise instead of the hellhole we currently live in.

I say, if they want to see what the world does to nice people, they're welcome to explore the rest of the City.

Oh, sure-sure, people reject my help all the time, when they don't want someone poking around in the piece of my city they've claimed as 'theirs' for whatever-the-gently caress reason. Doesn't even ruffle my feathers anymore. The City will outlive them anyway, get me? if I don't get to their block, then whoever replaces me will. They really would be better off with my help, but it's no skin off my rear end if they say no. I'm here for the City; on average, the City doesn't give much of a poo poo if, like, one random tower-town has working flush toilets or whatever. There's always a billion other something-elses I could be spending my time on.

Sometimes, though, sometimes, it ain't the people who are telling me no. Sometimes the City just doesn't wanna be healed - and me, I'm just a cell in the body. Ain't really poo poo I can do when she doesn't want me to do it. There's this one place in particular that she really, really doesn't want me loving around with.

There's not much left of the old subway system. A few short stretches of track are clear, and once in a blue moon someone with a handcart or diesel-wagon even uses one to get somewhere, but most of it's going to need a gently caress-off lot of work before it's even close to usable. Old trains on the lines, floods, collapses, weird-rear end beasties nesting in the stations, sometimes just plain old-fashioned rust. About the only good stretch I could make usable again is the Green Line, from Metro Central in Downtown to the South Side. Oh sure, I might be able to do something with the other lines, if I had a pile of jingle, a work crew, and, like, a fuckin' decade, but let's be reasonable here, yeah? The Green Line doesn't have any blockages, no cave-ins, no significant damage I can see. Built of sturdier stuff than the other lines, from what I can tell. There's even still some emergency power in a couple of the stations, somehow. I've tried to get sections of it operational I-don't-even-goddamn-know-how-many times. Every time it eats a pile of resources and every drat time it tries to kill me. I've been electrocuted, nearly suffocated with some sort of gas, sealed inside a station for three days, set on fire, shot at by the fuckin' robot-turret thing mounted in the ceiling at the 89th Street station. It's like it doesn't want to be fixed, like it's offline for a reason. Maybe the City just isn't ready for it yet.

Few years back, I was in a bad place. Real bad, death's-door bad. He found me in a gutter, face-down, robbed and beaten and bloodied. Probably didn't think I'd last the night, but I did. Nursed me back to health. Called himself Preacher-Something, Mark I think? Talked about how even in this dead world there was hope for salvation or some poo poo like that, I don't rightly remember, but he's the one man to ever see me as more than a mark or a lay.

Stayed there a few weeks as he tried to get me off the dope, but it's not as easy as just stopping. And then... I hosed up. Did something I shouldn't have, I don't like talking about it. He threw my rear end on the street, told me it was tough love. Told me I could come back someday if I've truly changed, if I've found salvation. I don't know if I want that, to be honest, but I want to see him again. I want to know he's ok. And if he's not, you better believe I'm gonna gut the bastard who hurt him.

Tenfourr: who last shared your cab? Business, pleasure, both, neither? They still in the picture?

Ugh, definitely business. I mean don't get me wrong Magpie has a sweet rear end and a cracking rack but I don't stick my dick in crazy. At least not after the last time. See she heads one of the more successful slaver gangs in this town and wanted me to move some of her live cargo across town to where her business partner was. Ha you're kind of disgusted about that ain't ya? Listen bud, morality is fine thing if you can afford it but you know how much gas costs these days? It ain't cheap let me tell you that. And well Mags jingle spends about as well as everyone else. Ain't no blood on that.

Anyway where was I? Oh yeah moving my cargo across town. Was a pretty uneventful run didn't have no more than the one gang try to threaten me and they couldn't stop a few tons of armour plated cab ramming through their "blockade" Mags looked almost disappointed at that which should have been my first tip-off something was up with her. Anyway we eventually pulled up inside her little compound. Her "nest" I think she called it. Place was deserted, which should have been my second clue. I parked up and watched as she got out the cab and walked straight up to the main building? hut? hovel? whatever you call it. Only for what looked like a meat mountain to step outside. Now I didn't catch the whole conversation but I got the gist of it, Seems Meat Mountain was doing some sort of hostile takeover. It was Mags that weird me out the most though. Through all his bluster and threats she just kept smiling and nodding. Even as the rest of the gang started to gather in a ragged semi-circle around my truck. Then Mags exploded, I swear I didn't even see her move but she had a pistol in her hands and had put three bullets through his stupid face before any of us could move. That ain't the worst part though. I saw the look on her face as he dropped it was ecstatic as if the kill had well... you know given her one hell of a jolt.

One of the gang members was the first to recover bringing up his own gun and pointing it at her hesitantly. But by then I'd already had my own piece drawn and aimed it at him. Mags smiled at them all and asked "anyone else want to question my leadership?" I guess the answer was no since the rest of the gang got to work unloading the cargo. Before too long we were done and well I was on my way. But that ain't the worst part. See as I made to drive off pay in hand. She blew me a kiss. So I hope I don't ever see her in any sort of picture ever again. I'm not that crazy even if she is.

SeaDee See: I'm sure you don't work for no pay, that's a good way to starve to death. Sometimes people get by on credit and favors, that's the way things go too. But who did you treat for no-poo poo free?

Hope: who is your most recent follower? Where did you find them, or they you?

He calls himself Castle; it's not his real name, but it's not like I was born Hope either. He's... impulsive. Emotional. Focused on here and now and never mind tomorrow.

I found him raiding the old homes along 16th. We'd tried that ourselves, since they seemed empty and untouched, but there's something nasty in the air, there. Makes you sick if you stay or eat or drink. He didn't have any symptoms when we crossed paths, but I warned him.

He got sick, of course, and blamed me for it. But I brought him back and we let him heal and he just never left. Now he works in the garden with the rest of us.

SeaDee See: I'm sure you don't work for no pay, that's a good way to starve to death. Sometimes people get by on credit and favors, that's the way things go too. But who did you treat for no-poo poo free?

Trashcan Man. Yeah, he’s crazier than a sack of weasels. Yeah, Mox gives me poo poo about the smell every time I patch him up after some gangers roll him. But I’ve seen that tiny little shrine out in the husk of Tobyville. I may be a heartless bitch, but even I have my limits.

And who knows, maybe he’ll crawl out of the bottle long enough to unite a chunk of the city again.

Specialist Kenning, Harold S.: who seemed to have a glimmer of sudden realization when you asked about Specialist Jackson?

The weirdest thing about the world now? That rare moment when you come across something that's familiar, but wrong. There's big holes in what I remember from before (cryo-amnesia's to blame for that), but one thing is the old church near Stasis. Only thing is, some nasty pieces of work looked at it and didn't see a church. They saw stone walls, narrow windows, and few entrances.

A fortress, in other words.

I wasn't much of a religious man before the Fall, but even I'm offended with what they've done with the place. They left the original stone up, but there's bloody, rusty spikes all around the base of the building. They've even got a few people in gibbets along the wall, slowly dying of exposure. It's just awful.

Thankfully, I got the drop on one of them paroling around before I was spotted. Jila was a huge beef-slab of a woman wearing a blackened and singed floral print dress. I thought that might be what passes for Sunday best around here, but when I asked her about it, she shrugged. It seems like that's what the people who live there dress like.

I asked her some more questions. Lay of the land, other settlements, that sort of thing. When I was done, I decided to take a shot in the dark. I asked about Specialist Jackson. I got a blank look in return, so I started describing how she looked, adding that she'd be dressed like me. After a moment, something seemed to click in her head, and Jila looked terrified.. However, she refused to say anything more. I nudged her with my rifle to suggest that she loosen her lips, but no dice. Seemed like she'd rather be shot than talk about what she realized.

Oh, I didn't shoot her, of course. I'm not a murderer. I just gave her a rifle butt to the back of the head and made my escape back to Stasis for the day.

Vault the Steeplejack: But where won't you go? Place or person or both?

Warlord, high priest, queen, president-for-life - if you've got the jingle and a challenge, then you've got a steeplejack. Except for Wartooth.

That witch hired me on false pretenses, kept me in the dark and feed me poo poo. Did it to some of my friends, and got us killing each other in the end. Upended the city from one end to the other, just so she could grab a piece of it and squat on it.

She paid me in the end, and I should have known better than to trust that witch. But she gets no more work. The ban is on her, the one drat thing steeplejacks agree on. No matter how much she offers up for the job.

"My dear boy, it's all very well to go on living. We all wish to survive. It's the script, if you will, of all living things. The orders which we are to follow in order to continue to exist.

But I propose that survival is not enough. Animals survive. But men and women and those who defy either categorization, I believe that we are capable of so much more. Of beauty, as unpopular as that idea may be in this smudged era.

That's why I created The Story. A live performance with no end, broadcast across the city to any that can hear it, a grand analogy for the things that happen in this corpse-town, played out live to a captive audience. An exuberant opera of life and death, love and loss, drawn from the people and events of the city, both informative and performative all at once. My little friends tell me what is going on out there, who is doing what to whom, and all these tidbits become threads that get woven into The Story, performed by my rotating cast of actors at my studio, the Proscenium.

"Because if you asked me what made a human human, I wouldn't say it was survival. I'd say it was stories."

Tell me: What keeps you up at night?

"Ironically, the darkness. The dark is representative of everything I work against. For my Story to exist, to reach its audience, I require light, power, radio waves and people with sets to receive them. Entropy works against those who try to elevate the masses, and I live in fear of the day there will be no more lights, no more broadcasts...just the darkness."

Tell me: What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one?

"I live at the Proscenium, which sits atop Gull Hill. It's become an odd little community, with fans of The Story and hopeful actors coming here to set up their camps at the bottom of the hill. As I had desired, The Story has brought people together- I have actors, assistants, even soldiers coming to me, wanting to be a part of it. It's really quite something.

quote:

Moves: Unflappable persona: when you act under fire, you can roll+hot instead of roll+cool.Rally to the cause: when you speak out in favor of a cause or a person, roll+hot. On a 10+, hold 2. On a 7–9, hold 1. Spend your hold 1-for-1 to have your audience:
• Send in supplies worth 1- or 2-barter.
• Attack somebody you name.
• Defend someone or something you name.
• Go together to a place you name.
On a miss, hold 1 anyway, but to spend it you have to personally lead them into action.

Studio: The Proscenium at Gull Hill
By default, your radio studio is a makeshift building which can comfortably house 2–4 people, with broadcast equipment and a single NPC guard (2-harm 1-armor, you detail): The Shank

Choose some people with connections to the station:Name 3 informants: Old Mig, Guo Lin, & the Comptroller
Name your biggest fan: August Grandmother
Name 2 people you’ve pissed the gently caress off: Fuzz & Gripp

JB: Any ideas why your pad on 27th and Madison was so available? Ever even think about that before?

I'm keeping it warm for a lady named Susan. About a month ago, she decided she was going to try and remove Fat Tim from ruling over the section between 5th and Jefferson and 12th and Monroe. He's the shithead that runs the 4 way stop gang all of their chestplates have a wierd plate with that written on it, no idea what it means) and he had taken Susan's brew without paying for it a few times too many. I offered to deal with the shithead, but she declined said if I did it, whichever of his boys lived would end up ruling the area. So she has cozied up to Fat Tim and making like she needs his protection to run her still. I don't get the full plan. She told me that if she needs me, I'll get the message. You asking about her reminds me, I should pop in on Fat Tim. I could always use a little jingle.

Magnificent Max: Obviously, you love Gull Hill and the Proscenium. But what's your favorite part of the City?

"I like the Markets.

August Grandmother runs the Markets and has done for as long as anyone can remember, and her Charming Grandsons have kept order for about as long. Of course, that means that the Markets are about as safe and stable a place you can find in this City, when people are safe and stable, or at least to a certain degree, that's when you can see them shine.

They're not worried about a knife at their throat, or the Burning Time sending men to torch their homes, or about the Ashman. People relax at the Markets. They bargain and argue and tell stories and fall in love and break each other's hearts. The Markets are a venue of hard commerce, of course, don't misunderstand me. But they are also a respite, a place where humans can be human, if not necessarily humane.

When the old world took its leave, most that was luxe signed out with it -- pillaged or wasted by no-hopers or sealed up in big stone sepulchers with no keys left, towers full of rotting steak that consequently smelled godawful. I used to scavenge those for old world goods. Not well, mind you; no stairs, no inroads to break in, so we rappelled up the sides. Think remotes, TVs, low-tech nothings, sometimes a working fridge. But then -- like a gift from above -- 48 Golden Valley Terrace. I still remember the look on my brother's face when the elevator pinged open.

Working power, working elevators, and up in the penthouses was cornucopia itself. Working lights. A little wine, a little quality booze. But more than that, it was the way it looked. Couches not half-rotten, pools not filthy, dressers of clothing not moth-eaten, ambiance -- do you know how long it's been since I even said the word ambiance? A long time!

So we got together suits, dressed up some toughs and pretty folk Paris lent us like old-world waiters, and we opened the Golden Valley for business. Penthouse living on fine couches at long tables, real wood, and light shows, real nice, and -- most of all -- you can look down on the city like you owned it instead of because someone is pitching you off a roof.

What keeps you up at night?
...among other things, we're scavengers. Even the best vulture eventually picks all the meat off a kill, and if there's no other fresh meat out there it's back to carrion. And I know I can survive doing what I did before...

But I don't know if I want to. Survive like that, I mean.

It'd gently caress up my suit, anyway.

What part of the city do you call home, if you've got one?
Well, I live on the ground floor of the Terrace, so I guess it's... the rich folks' part? Only there's not a lot of actual folks living there, 'cause you can't get in with a broken elevator unless you scale the building, and one thing the old world could do is security that'd last. But there's some people living in a public park nearby, call themselves the Marble Men. They take in homeless people, so they're pretty large. I think Thom "Gunn" Gun is in charge there. Very polite, Thom Gun, but I don't trust him near us.

The Maestro D' posted:

You call this hot?: When you do something under fire, roll +hot instead of roll +cool.

Everybody eats, even that guy: when you want to know something about someone important (your call), roll+hot. On a hit, you can ask the MC questions. On a 10+, ask 3. On a 7-9, ask 1:
• How are they doing? what’s up with them?
• What or who do they love best?
• Who do they know, like and/or trust?
• When next should I expect to see them?
• How could I get to them, physically or emotionally?
On a miss, ask 1 anyway, but they hear about your interest in them.

Security:Secrecy, passwords, codes & signals, invite-only, vouching, etc. -- if you see the lights, chances are you don't know what they mean unless you've got a ticket or an invite.everybody’s packing: your cast & crew are a gang (2-harm gang small 0-armor) -- we were scavengers before we were waiters, and we've got spare suits if these ones get bloody.